


gourmet guide to the upper west side

by headfullofbirds



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background Chowder, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, nursey's two moms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headfullofbirds/pseuds/headfullofbirds
Summary: Dex visits Nursey in NYC over the summer, meets his family, eats a lot of good food, and falls further in love.AKA two idiots go on like ten dates and still cant figure out they like each other





	gourmet guide to the upper west side

When he comes home, Derek has a routine.

Derek’s traveled often enough as a kid that he’s practically a pro at this point, and being TSA Pre makes the whole process smoother. He flies into LaGuardia, which has changed subtly over time, construction turning it to shiny glass and the newest tech at every turn. His parents will have a car waiting to pick him up, and as they drive into the city he watches the blocks pass by, feeling a little more settled. He uses Seamless to order a pizza from the little Greek diner that makes the proper greasy New York City style pies that he’s missed. He leans his head against the window and thinks about getting home. His sister will be there; she’s living at home while she goes to grad school at Hunter. Both his mothers will be home tonight, though Dad is still away on business for a few days. Ammi will be working during his break but on reduced hours so she can see him as much as possible. Mama has a concert in Antwerp at the end of the week, so she’ll be fairly busy with rehearsals. They’ve scheduled things such that they’ll have at least a few days all together and someone will be at the house to keep him company. When he finally arrives at the quiet stretch of street where their home is tucked away in a line of other brownstones, he texts Reina. She meets him outside their brownstone and practically tackles him to put him in a headlock.

“I missed you, nerd,” she admits, releasing him and bumping her shoulder against his. She grabs his suitcase from his and starts to drag it down the steps.

“You know I’m a hockey player right? I can carry my own bags,” he says, following her to their front door.

“ _Chill_ ,” she tells him, turning back so he can see the face she’s making at him.

“It’s been less than five minutes; you two aren’t fighting already are you?” His mama asks, opening the door to let them in.

“No, Mama,” they say in stereo, exchanging fond looks.

“Good. Now get in here and give me a hug,” she orders, stepping back to give them room to enter. Derek steps inside, toes his shoes off, and lets his backpack fall to floor. Reina immediately scoops it up and starts carrying his bags towards the stairs, but Derek makes a b-line for his mother’s arms. She squeezes him tight, the difference in height allowing him to slump over and comfortably tuck his chin over her shoulder. He feels calmer in her arms, safe and taken care of. When she finally releases him, it’s only to hold him at arms length and cluck over his apparent thinness and whether he’s been eating enough. They’re interrupted by his the jangling of keys in the lock, and they barely step out of the way when his other mother throws open the door. She’s clearly just come from work, still wearing loose slacks and a blazer over blouse, classic New York greyscale but for her hijab, which today is a delicate floral design in blues and whites. The second she sees him she drops her briefcase to the floor and embraces him. It feels like home.

 

The next morning, he sets out early. He takes his time walking to the tiny bagel shop, meandering down avenues in an unnecessarily circuitous route so he can observe the changes that have occurred. It doesn’t matter how short a time he’s been gone; there are always unfamiliar restaurants and abandoned storefronts, some with clear construction occurring within or papered over windows, some with “for rent” signs posted on the glass and dark, emptied spaces waiting for the next project to begin. The old deli has gone from a gluten-free risotto shop to a butcher’s; a new deli has opened in a space whose previous occupant he can’t place; that old bar has closed down; another juice bar has opened up; the Croc’s store is finally gone; the cursed spot has made yet another transition from an Asian fusion restaurant to a salad shop (the latest fad).

Derek loves walking in the city, where people keep their heads down and move with purpose. It’s easy to mistake their attitude as rude, but in a city where everyone lives in each other’s pockets, politeness is giving the strangers around you as much privacy and space as you can.  Every so often, there is a moment where cars are absent and everyone seems to simultaneously hold their breath from a split second, so everything is quiet for a brief pause before the bustle continues. He loves the contradiction of the quiet stretching streets and the bustling avenues. This is home.

He reaches the shop just as they pull a fresh batch of bagels from the oven and holds the warm bag close to his chest as he walks back home, missing the H&H viscerally. He associates the smell with the long line through the large open space of the long-gone bagel shop, the view of the oven churning constantly in the back, standing in line with his nanny and tugging at her hand for quarters for the gatchapon machine. He remembers it only with the perspective of a child, the space distorted by his small size in the memories.

The bagels are good enough to eat straight from the bag when they’re fresh like this, but he toasts one nonetheless, making himself a cup of coffee with the French press and waits for his moms to stumble in bleary eyed. He thinks about the city he wants to show to Dex, not the imposing stainless steel and glass of midtown, but here, his own neighborhood, sun-stained streets and quieter corners, the echoes of his childhood, the places he thinks Dex will feel at home, and then he begins to draft a plan.

* * *

A Gourmet’s Guide to the Upper West Side

* * *

When Dex comes to visit Nursey, he’ll admit to being a little worried about the costs. Nursey lives in a brownstone on the Upper West Side, for god’s sake, and he went to some fancy boarding school. He’s expecting to get shown around the sights, dragged to weird vegan-organic cafes, and, if Dex is being honest, to fight with Nursey a lot. Except, as it turns out, Nursey’s never been to any of touristy areas. He scorns Time Square and offers instead a personal tour of what he calls “the real city.” 

“I know my way around the museums,” he tells an exhausted Dex as he picks him up from Penn Station and guides him to the subway. “And my family has guest passes, so we can hit those for free, but other than that I was just planning on introducing you to the neighborhood. The Upper West Side is known for its food.”

So Dex is expecting ridiculously expensive restaurants with too many utensils, and sure enough, that evening Nursey takes advantage of his tired state to order take out from some café whose prices Nursey doesn’t even allow him to look at. He remembers very little of it; Nursey’s family is bright and vibrant, chattering warmly to each other. Mr. Nurse comes down the stairs in slightly rumpled clothing with a notebook shoved in back pocket to kiss Dr. Nurse hello at the door. He drops a kiss on the top of Nursey’s sister’s head and another of Mrs. Nurse’s cheek. Nursey carries the conversation for the both of them, telling Dex that this is the authentic stuff, that the restaurant is named after a famous artist, that he goes there with his family sometimes. He paints a picture of a dim place, lit by flickering candles, the bowls of volcanic rock the guacamole comes in, the flaming plantain dessert, and everyone laughs at Dex’s surprise at finding actual corn in the corn soufflé. He eats the best Mexican food he’s had in his life from plastic containers with Nursey in a kitchen that doesn’t look like it’s ever been used, texts parents and Chowder to let them know he’s arrived, and passes out.

 

Dex wakes up to the smell of coffee pervading the house.  He takes a moment to wonder what the hell he’s doing here. Last night he had been too tired to really argue with Nursey, but in the light of day he’s reconsidering this whole thing. What exactly was he thinking? He groans and checks his phone for the time: 10am. He also has ten texts, one from his mother, telling him to have fun. The other nine are from Chowder:

**[ Dex ]** Just got in  
  
**[ Chowder ]** what are u guys doing for dinner  
  
**[ Chowder ]** deeeeexxxxx  
  
**[ Chowder ]** u and nursey better not be fighting  
  
**[ Chowder ]** if u killed each other im going to be super sad :(((  
  
[](https://68.media.tumblr.com/c3b96b84b05cec4a1acce40b7368ec5c/tumblr_oosemqQFUf1vya2fao1_250.png)  
  
**[ Chowder ]** wait isnt it like eleven in nyc  
  
**[ Chowder ]** ok i think u went to bed  
  
**[ Chowder ]** good night dex!!!  
  


The picture is of Chowder, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy. Dex has the entirely untenable urge to do just about anything if it means Chowder will never make that face again, up to and including never fighting with Nursey again. He texts Chowder back and gets a response almost immediately.

**[ Dex ]** Yeah sorry I ate dinner and pretty much passed out  
  
**[ Dex ]** Remind me why you’re not here again?  
  
**[ Chowder ]** dex!! good morning!!  
  
**[ Chowder ]** sorry :(( cait and i are doing our roadtrip to portland this week remember  
  
**[ Chowder ]** and its imp u and nursey learn how to share each others space!! youre going to be living together soon  
  
**[ Dex ]** Ugh don’t remind me  
  
**[ Chowder ]** its going to go great!! u and nursey just need to try to get along  
  
**[ Chowder ]** I thought you were past this tbh???  
  
**[ Chowder ]** you were doing better at the end of last year  
  


_Yeah_ , Dex thinks, _before I realized I have a giant, impossible crush on the asshole._ He decides that’s probably not the best thing to text Chowder. He still hasn’t told his friend about his realization, and he doesn’t intend to.

**[ Dex ]** I’ll try my best  
  
**[ Dex ]** Sometimes he’s just so… Nursey  
  
**[ Chowder ]** dex :((  
  
**[ Dex ]** I said I’d give it a try!  
  
**[ Dex ]** I’m here aren’t I  
  
**[ Dex ]** Anyway I smell coffee I’m going to go get some breakfast  
  


There are two people in the kitchen when he finally descends the stairs, which is a surprise considering as far as he knows, no one else was in the house last night. One of them is Nursey, of course, sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee and his sticker-covered MacBook, but the second is a young woman in the chair next to him. She’s unfamiliar to him but clearly related to Nursey, tall even sitting down with dyed hair in box braids down her back, a long face with an aquiline nose. She’s wearing an overlarge flannel, the sleeves carefully rolled up so they won’t trail in her food, with faded t-shirt for some obscure band underneath, and her hazel eyes are framed by what even Dex can recognize is flawless eyeliner. Her hands are adorned with several thick rings and her nail polish matches her flannel. The overall effect is of someone who is at once effortlessly dressed and perfectly put together. Dex is immediately intimidated. She looks and smiles softly at him. He feels marginally less intimidated.

“Hey, Dex! It’s nice to meet you! Derek talks about you a lot,” she says, winking conspiratorially. “He was really excited that you agreed to come visit.”

" _Chill_ ,” Nursey says, elbowing her. “This is my older sister, Reina; you can ignore her.”

She rolls her eyes, giving Dex a commiserating look, as though inviting him to share in the joke, and then shrugs. “I’m headed out anyway,” she informs them, standing and moving over to the sink to rinse out her plastic take-out container. She dumps it in the recycling and gathers a backpack from the floor by her feet, heading for the door. “You two have fun,” she calls back over her shoulder, and then, as she opens the door, “But not _too_ much fun,” and laughing, she lets the door slam shut behind her.

“Ugh,” is all Nursey says. Dex sits down across from him at the counter, trying hard not to feel jealous of Nursey and his perfect brownstone and his clearly amicable relationship with his older sibling.

“What’s ‘Ugh,’” he says, immediately failing. “Having an older sibling who clearly cares about you?” _Great_ , he thinks, _That sounded aggressive_. So much for trying to get along. Nursey raises his eyebrows but doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Chill, Poindexter. Have some breakfast,” he slides a round, plastic container across the counter towards Dex, and a clear plastic cup of pulpy orange juice, “Maybe it’ll make you less hangry.”

Dex hesitantly takes a seat across from Nursey and cracks the container open. The warmth and smell of pancakes wafts up at him, a stack of three, small and not particularly fluffy. Nursey leans back to pull open a drawer and grab him a knife and fork, and he cuts in the pancake, dipping it into the little containers of butter and syrup before taking his first bite. The lemony flavor immediately surprises him, but it’s not unpleasant.

“’S good,” he mutters to the table and then, “Sorry. You and your sister seem to get along really well.”

Nursey waves off the apology “’S chill, dude. I was just playing. You know how older siblings are, always trying to embarrass you in front of the people you–“ he trips over his words briefly before ending slightly awkwardly with, “–are friends with.”

Well, Charlie’s definitely good at embarrassing him. Dex tries briefly to imagine his older brother meeting any of his teammates at Samwell and shudders. He doesn’t have anything close the easy camaraderie with Charlie as Nursey seems to have with Reina, especially not since he left for college. He sort of shrugs and stuffs more pancake in his mouth so he doesn’t have to come up with an answer.

They spend the rest of breakfast in companionable silence. Nursey absently scrolls through various social media sites, texting idly with Chowder, who has begged off coming to go on a suspiciously timed roadtrip with Farmer to Portland. He occasionally glances up to check that Dex is still engrossed in his breakfast, but also just to admire Dex’s pale eyelashes as he looks down and his sleep ruffled hair. He wishes, as he has since Dex first stepped down the stairs into view, that Dex hadn’t taken the time to get ready before coming down. He wants to see Dex in his pajamas, still bleary eyed, stumbling around his room, maybe stretching his arms over his head so his shirt hem lifts up to reveal a glimpse of his abs… Nursey realizes abruptly that he’s been staring into space for a suspiciously long time and shakes his head to clear it. There’ll be plenty of time for all that when they’re sharing a room next year. Not that he expects that to last long—Dex is too tightly wound and easily riled up for that. He can’t help but wind Dex up; he loves the way Dex gets, face flushed and voice cracking, gesticulating furiously. It would be nice, of course, to share space with Dex peacefully, to have that easy camaraderie they share sometimes, in quiet moments, more often, but Nursey is doesn’t see that happening. He and Dex burn too hot too often, and Nursey is invested in winning this competition for the room.  For now though, for now he can— His hand, reaching for his mug of coffee, meets thin air. He looks up from his laptop and sees Dex casually sipping from it, leaning contentedly back in his bar chair, savoring each sip.

“Really, Poindexter?” Nursey asks.

“You looked pretty engrossed,” Dex says, shrugging unapologetically, “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“Give that back you shit,” Nursey insists, reaching for it. Dex raises it high in the air and Nursey shoves his laptop aside, starting to clamber onto the counter to get it. Dex quickly brings the mug to his mouth and finishes what’s left of the coffee. “What the fuck man. I invite you into my home, feed you breakfast, and this is what I get?”

“You can have the rest of my orange juice,” Dex offers blithely.

Eventually, they manage to clean up and get out the door. It’s a beautiful summer day, clear but not too hot, and Nursey decides their first stop should be the park. They wander for a long while through the winding paths bordered with flowers, Nursey pointing out his favorite rocks to climb as a child. They visit Shakespeare’s garden and meander around the lake, Dex admiring how peaceful this pocket of the city is, framed even by far off buildings tall enough to be visible above the trees.

“I ‘m still trying to decide if I wanna take you to Luke’s Lobster,” Nursey confesses. “It’s supposed to be, like, real Maine-style food or whatever, but I figure you probably get enough of that at home, unless you wanna check it out and see if it’s legit.”

“Do you know what parts of the lobster they use?” Dex asks.

“Uh, the tail I’m guessing?” Nursey says.

“Tail is the least nutritional and flavorful part of the lobster,” Dex tells him, “It’s just the most fleshy, which is why they serve it. It’s honestly not really worth eating on its own.”

“What the fuck man,” Nursey says, “Are you telling me every time I’ve eaten lobster I’ve been getting ripped off?”

“Basically, yeah,” Dex says casually.

“Okay, what part of the lobster _should_ I be eating,” Nursey asks him.

“Claw meat, leg meat, brain, innards,” Dex lists. “That’s the good stuff.”

“You’re blowing my mind, Poindexter,” Nursey says, crossing his arms behind his head. “And making me hungry. Lunch?” he asks, glancing at his phone.

“Let’s just grab a hotdog,” Dex suggests, pointing towards the nearby cart. Nusey abruptly stops walking.

“Chyeah, no,” he says, grabbing Dex’s hand, “Your first New York City hot dog is _not_ coming from a cart. C’mon, I have a better idea.”

He leads Dex out of the park and back onto the city streets, walking quickly and deftly navigating around people. Dex follows closely behind, glad for their clasped hands which prevent him from being left behind in the crowd where he would surely be lost. After a surprisingly short journey, Nursey begins tugging him towards a store. It’s… not the sort of place Dex expected Nursey to take him, that’s for sure. The building is a few stories high, the second dedicated to a large Sleepy’s, and underneath is lit sign declaring the name in a font reminiscent of bamboo, and beneath that, red text declaring, “ **WHEN YOU’RE HUNGRY, BROKE, OR JUST IN A HURRY! _No Gimmicks, No Bull!_** ” Dex raises his eyebrows, reading another sign, which says, “LET’S BE **FRANK,** WE WANT YOU TO BUY OUR **FURTERS** ,” before he’s pulled inside. It’s bustling, some people eating hotdogs overflowing with relish or chili on a red counter against the front window, but most are simply passing in and out of the two doors. The interior is yellow and dusky-red tile, with paper fruits hanging from the ceiling and signs everywhere, which declare things like “ _NOBODY BUT NOBODY SERVES A BETTER FRANKFURTER_ ,” and “ _SEARCH THE CITY YOU WILL NEVER FIND A_ ** _BETTER, TASTIER FRANKFURTER_** _THAN OURS_.” Big silver drink dispensers line the back wall labeled “100% PURE PINAPPLE JUICE,” and “BANANA DAQUIRI,” and “COCONUT CHAMPAGNE.”

Nursey heads straight for the counter and half-shouts to the man wearing a red shirt behind it, “Two recession specials, please! A papaya juice, a piña colada, two dogs with sauerkraut, and two dogs with,” He turns to Dex, “Want anything on your hot dog?” Dex shrugs helplessly, a little overwhelmed, so Nursey continues, “and two with ketchup and mustard!”

The man nods and turns to the rows and rows of neatly lined up hotdogs on the counter and gets to work. Within a few minutes Dex is juggling a Styrofoam cup and a paper plate with two hot dogs on it, and the two of them are back out the other door. Nursey leads them back towards the park to find a bench to sit on along Central Park West.

“Most people eat them on the go,” Nursey tells him, smirking, “But I figure you’re not up for that.”

“I could eat while I walk,” Dex says, just to be contrary, but he’s glad to sit down for a little while. The hotdogs are good, the buns toasted along with the dogs, warm and a little smoky tasting. The piña colada is thick and delicious, the sweet taste of good coconut milk and the tangy pineapple. Nursey goads him into trying the papaya juice, which is odd but good, though Dex prefers his own drink. After they wolf down their food, finish their drinks, they meandering back down the street.

“We’re running low on coffee,” Nursey tells him, “C’mon, there’s a place nearby.”

They only walk a few blocks before Nursey is motioning him towards a store just off the avenue. The first that strikes him is the _smell_ thick in the air, the pervasive aroma of good coffee. It’s a small shop, two of the walls lined with tubs of beans with smaller jars above them, like a candy shop, and in one corner is a small wooden counter behind which is shelves of more containers of teas. A table in the middle has carafes of coffee for sampling as well as milk and sugar.  Nursey goes straight to the counter to request some Tip of the Andes, and Dex cautiously sniffs at the Apple Crumb flavored beans before Nursey sidles up to him, smirking.

“What?” Dex asks suspiciously.

“Whatcha looking at?” Nursey equivocates.

“Weird flavors. Here, smell this,” he says, shoving the jar in Nursey’s face. He looks down, noticing Nursey has two bags of grounds in the shopping bag. Nursey picks one out of the bags and turns to it to face him: Irish Cream.

“Now you can stop stealing mine,” Nursey tells him, grinning. Dex rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and heads for the door, Nursey scrambling to follow behind him.

Nursey doesn’t take Dex’s hand to guide him again once they’re on the street, so he hovers on his heels, taking quick steps to match Nursey’s pace. He thinks about reaching out and grabbing his hand, his wrist even, but he can’t make himself do it. Instead he follows in Nursey’s wake, listening closely as he points out different buildings. Nursey seems to have a breadth of knowledge as to the comings and going of businesses, what used to be in this building or that. They pass by a small hardware store and Nursey points it out to him.

“There’s a Lowes in the area now, but I still prefer this place,” Nursey tells him, “I’ve known the owner since I was a kid. He used to have a balloon for me every time I came in. In the winter he puts a plumber’s menorah out, one made of pipes, and one time Adam Sandler came in and bought one. He runs a charity walk every year too; a bunch of the local restaurants donate food for it. I think most people in the area know him, actually. He’s a really nice guy.”

On Broadway they stop in a small store with a grammatically and generally strange name. There’s a large chalkboard up on the wall and a few places to sit, but the place is set up for people to order at the counter at the far end, loop back around to pick up their order, and head back out the door. They’re selling mochi, but the main attraction is the cream puffs. They’ve got all kinds, with options for chocolate filling; Nursey picks out a box of the mini cream puffs and they’re quickly back out the door, sharing the little powdered sugar dusted choux pastries out of the box as they walk. They go quickly, though Dex carefully savors his share. Each one is flakey with a tiny bit of crunch to it, filled with a creamy and custardy vanilla center.

They dust off their hands and wander northwards, eventually reaching a local bookstore, where they flip through the stacks and browse the collection of other things for sale. Nursey picks out a few books; Dex sizes up the aprons they have for sale as the cashier rings them up, wondering if Bitty would like them. They take to the streets again, window-shopping up Columbus and Amsterdam, slipping down the streets between the two. Dex admires the brownstones with their flowering plots of earth and the splashes of color in the tree pits.

“In certain seasons these things are full of decorative cabbages,” Nursey informs him. “It’s a big thing in the city for some reason.”

“Decorative… cabbages?” Dex says disbelievingly, side-eyeing him.

“Yeah, like, fancy ass cabbages you can’t eat,” Nursey clarifies.

“What’s the point of a cabbage you can’t eat?” Dex asks, mystified. Nursey just shrugs, apparently lost for an answer.

Eventually their hunger gets the best of them and Nursey leads them to what he calls a “milk bar.” It’s a small place, big chalkboards overhead and a giant sign that says _milk_ in neon lights on the wall. Most of the space is behind the counter which spans almost the whole shop, and the only places to sit are at a counter along the left wall atop seats that look like wooden boxes. Nursey gestures Dex to sit and orders for them: a cereal milkshake, some weird hot drink for Nursey, cake truffles, pork buns and veggie buns. The milkshakes are done first; Dex takes a sip and is immediately surprised. He must make some sort of face because Nursey raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s not as sweet as I was expecting,” Dex tells him, taking another sip. It does taste exactly like the milk at the bottom of a bowl of cornflakes, which means it’s probably the least sweet milkshake Dex has ever had.

“You don't like it?” Nursey says, tensing up, and then, forcibly relaxing, “It’s chill, you don't have to drink it, man, I can—"

“No, no,” Dex interrupts, “It’s good. Just, surprising.”

“You sure, dude?” Nursey says, still trying too hard to look uncaring, and Dex is saved from having to reassure him by their order of buns coming up.

They’re pressed close together at their seats, knees knocking under the table as they unwrap the buns from their foil and stuff them with pickled carrots and pea shoots and some sort of spicy mayo. It’s sort of sweet and a little spicy and very good, and between the two of them they put away a good six buns before Dex goes back to his milkshake. The cake truffles turn out to be sweet morsels of rich, cakey flavor which make a good dessert, and it nearly comes to wrestling over the last one before Nursey snatches it up and eats half of it in a bite before offering the other half to Dex, who grudgingly accepts the compromise and steals a sip of Nursey’s drink which is… flavorful.

“What the fuck is this,” Dex asks flatly, licking his lips as he tries to parse the flavors. Nursey seems distracted, staring at him for a long moment before starting and responding.

“Miso butterscotch chai,” Nursey says, plucking the drink from Dex’s hands.

“Those words do not go together,” Dex informs him, going back to his milkshake. It’s almost empty. He frowns down at it.

Nursey buys him another milkshake. They walk home, Dex sipping at it, holding Nursey’s hand so he doesn’t get lost.

 

The next morning Nursey wakes Dex early for a run, because it may be break, but that’s no excuse to slack off. Nursey leads them on a five mile loop through the park. They run on concrete pathways, filled with bikers, but they’re surrounded by beautiful trees and in the distance, towering buildings. It’s hot and the road isn’t entire flat, though it isn’t too hilly, so Dex finds himself sweating by the end of it. Nursey makes them protein shakes in his blender for breakfast and they both break off to shower.

They spend the morning in the Natural History Museum. The halls are in turns dimly lit and illuminated by artificial light. Nursey lets Dex lead the way, holding on to his hand so as not to lose him in the crowds, providing commentary on all the rooms, fun facts and anecdotes about his own childhood exploring the museum. In a large room with giant sea creatures suspended in the air, Nursey shows him how to find the gorilla hiding inside a darkened path of jungle. In another room, a giant blue whale is hanging high above them. They pass through halls of display after display, tour rooms full of dinosaur fossils. All too soon, it’s midday.

“Let’s go somewhere else for lunch,” Nursey tells him, “You still haven’t had a slice of _real_ New York pizza.”

Dex knows Nursey is a certified pizza snob who will turn his nose up at places like Domino’s. He’ll eat it of course, but not without complaining about missing New York pizza. And Dex, well, he knows what Nursey is like. He’s expecting something over the top, some place serving proper Neapolitan wood fire cooked pizza for ten dollars a slice, or some organic vegan cafe with gourmet deconstructed pizza. Instead, they walk along Amsterdam and come to an awning in between a brownstone and a deli, one of the little markets with green awnings and flowers or fruit out front that seem to crop up every few blocks. Dex can smell the pizza already.

Above the long awning is a nail salon, and to get into the shop itself they need to duck down a small set of stairs; it’s a hole-in-the-wall type place. It’s small, exposed brick wall and tiled floors some old tables and metal chairs crowded into the back. Most of the space is taken up by the counters, and there are chalkboard menus up with all sorts of weird options: vegan pizza, yes, and whole wheat with soy cheese, but also thai chicken and ratatouille. They sit with their pizza, knees knocking under the small table, feet intertwined. Nursey folds his slice in half lengthwise, allowing him to gesture with his other hand as he speaks at length about the other pizza shops in the area. Dex snapchats a picture to Chowder without caption, quietly saving it for the bright, enthusiastic light in Nursey’s eyes as he talks. The first bite of pizza is greasy and flavorful with oregano and delicious. Dex chokes down the rest of his first slice with fervor, partially from hunger, partially because it’s really damn good. He gets grease all over his hands, which Nursey notices immediately.

“Chill, Poindexter,” he says, when Dex makes a face, wiping off his hands, “Try this,” and he carefully positions Dex’s hands so he’s holding his second slice like Nursey is. “There, now you’re like a real New Yorker. Easier to hold this way, no grease on your hands, and you can eat while you walk. Look at that,” he says, gesturing at the way the end of the pizza sags at the end, “The perfect flop.”

They’re done quickly enough, but Dex is loath to move from his spot despite the uncomfortable chairs, close to Nursey as he is. Nursey refuses to stay still for long, though, insisting they need to get going, but their destination turns out to only be around the corner. It’s a small, blue-trimmed store front with a French name, a little bench out front. Once more they have to descend a set of cramped steps into an even smaller bakery. It smells of warm baked goods, like the Haus kitchen on the best of days, and the two of them squeeze into the space already filled with four other people waiting in line. Most of the store seems to be behind the counter, reserved for the kitchen which is all professional stainless steel. The counter has a glass display with French pastries, all of which look delicious, and cookies, which are _enormous_. Along two of the walls are counters with bar stools for people to sit and eat, all of which are empty.

“This is a good time of day to come,” Nursey says, “Sometimes to line goes out the door and down the block.”

Dex tries to imagine the store even more crowded than it already is, and grimaces. The line moves quickly enough, at least, people squeezing past to exit the shop, and soon they’re at the register. Nursey orders a couple cookies, and they leave with a white paper bag to sit in the bench out front.

“Chocolate chocolate or chocolate chip walnut?” Nursey asks.

“Chocolate chocolate,” Dex decides, and Nursey presents him with one of the giant cookies with a piece of wax paper to hold it with. He takes a single bite of holy _shit._ It’s still warm, soft and so rich he can’t take a second bite.

“Oh my god,” he says, staring at the cookie.

“Try the other kind,” Nursey says, taking the cookie from his limp hand and passing him another one. Dex takes a bite and it’s less rich than the chocolate, but the chips are half melted and the walnuts add a bit a crunch and before he knows it he’s demolished half of the cookie and feels like he’s eaten an entire pie.

They head back to the museum for the afternoon, spending at least an hour in the Hall of Gems and Minerals alone, where Nursey seems mesmerized by all of the sparkling stones. Dex finds himself caught up in staring at Nursey, who’s eyes seem to shine as bright as the gems on display.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this one in my drafts for a looooong time. its more a love letter to NYC than a nurseydex fic but ehhhh  
> i'm posting it now in the hopes that some feedback will inspire me to finish up the second half which i personally think is a lot better than the first but has unfortunately been sitting unfinished for months and months now  
> hope you enjoyed, please leave some love on your way out!


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